


The Agent & The Analyst, Part 13: The Midwest

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Series: bodyguard [13]
Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:18:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is a surly government analyst and Jared is the bodyguard that always smiles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Agent & The Analyst, Part 13: The Midwest

Jensen hates to admit it, but this is the fourth time he has been under some form of house arrest. 

The first was when the government finally caught up to him after he’d slipped into the Department of Defense and, in an attempt to win over his big brother, forced directives from _War Games_ into their system. The second was when they transferred him from a low-security prison into his latest set-up in Virginia as they had released him to work for the Bureau. The third was under Jared’s command and slightly more interesting than any of the others, obviously. 

He thinks on the fact that each incident had been better than the one before, yet this one is worse than anything he’s experienced. Mostly he’s never really wanted to live in Wisconsin. 

Living in Texas meant he always hated the cold winters of D.C., but the Midwest is ridiculous. Being close to the lake with high winds means the sun doesn’t do much to help take the chill off. 

Sure, the view of Lake Michigan is nice, something more calming than what he’s seen of the Atlantic the few times he bothered venturing to the coast. It doesn’t mean much, though, when he’s got another agent tailing him, reminding him that he’s not really free. 

Jensen stares across the tiny waves rippling across the lake and tries to figure out how he could have avoided being transferred. Being here without a job is worse than anything he’s encountered in his life, he thinks. On a daily basis, his fingers twitch with the need to do something. Hell, even when the FBI had him under wraps, he could put his hands to use by hacking the hackers.

Right now, they just tap along his jeans as he wonders if there’s any way to stretch out this tiny trip away from the non-descript safehouse he’s been stuck in for the last few weeks. 

“You ready?” his handler asks. Agent Dohring seems a bit young to be covering him, but then again, so did Jared and that seemed to work out well … up until the very end. 

“Yeah,” Jensen replies, turning away from the lakefront to walk with the agent back towards the rest of the city. They’d parked just a block or two away for the one weekly trip Jensen’s allowed right now. These excursions never last longer than an hour in public, but the agent seems to agree with Jensen that he needs some sunlight; even prisoners some yard time. 

Dohring stays quiet at Jensen’s side, eyes combing the area in random patterns, but with the kind of radar that Jensen has come to appreciate. 

What Jensen also appreciates is how the agent will always humor his ideas, even when they’re not advisable. “Think we can swing by the market?” Jensen tries. “Get something better than peanut butter or deli meat?”

With his eyes still trained on the spaces around them, Dohring nods in a rare moment. “Yeah, I suppose that’s not a bad idea today. It’s quiet out here today.”

And he’s right; with winter marching in, there aren’t many people outside. Though there are a few more when they drive a half a mile or so north to the Metro Market. It’s overpriced, stocked with posh foods, and run by people who love talking about gelato and turn down their nose on more human pleasures like candy bars or popcorn. On one hand, Jensen hates it; on the other, it reminds him of being in D.C.

Agent Dohring seems preoccupied the entire time, eyes roaming the store, steps taken carefully even when it appears that they’re both out just to fill up on fruits, butcher-cut meats, and freshly baked bread. His sudden carefulness bleeds into Jensen, who feels outright paranoid when they leave the store. 

“Take an extra lap,” Dohring says quietly, motioning down the block. 

Jensen gets the directive and walks a little ahead of him, turning one corner, and easily heading for the next as if that was his intention all along. The car is back the other way, but he’ll make the longer trip if it means remaining under the radar a bit longer.

He slows when he reaches the next alleyway, looks over his shoulder, and begins to worry when Dohring isn’t following. He takes a few more steps, fixing his hold on the grocery bags, and considers reaching for his phone to alert someone—then he’s grabbed from behind and hauled into the alley. 

Jensen fights against the strong hold around his chest. He even tries swinging the groceries at the guy pulling him behind a dumpster, but it doesn’t work; the fancy paper bags break at the handles and food flies everywhere. Then Jensen’s flung against the brick wall of the back end of the store, and he’s got the wind knocked out of him so hard, he’s sure he’s dreaming. Because he’s staring at Jared. 

“What’re you—” Jensen tries to say, but Jared covers his mouth with one large hand and uses the other to yank him down so they’re crouching behind the dumpster. 

Jared’s eyes widen as he tips his head to the side, silently begging Jensen to just go with it.

This is all very familiar; Jensen isn’t going to argue. While he’s more than happy to see Jared again, he’s scared as shit as to what his presence means. 

Jensen slowly nods and wraps his hand around Jared’s wrist to pull it away. 

“Okay, good, you’re not gonna yell,” Jared mumbles.

“What’re you doing here?” he finally gets out in a quick whisper. 

“What? You’re not happy to see me?” Jared smiles some boyish, silly thing that makes Jensen feel stupidly giddy.

Based on that, Jensen slides his hand around Jared’s neck and hauls him in for a kiss. It’s obviously a surprise to Jared given the odd squeak he lets out, but Jensen isn’t going to let that stop him from feeling Jared’s mouth against his own. When Jensen lets him go, they’re both smiling, even when Jensen is still scared as shit.

“Seriously, what’re you doing here?”

“Trying to save your ass,” Jared whispers in return.

“Did they track me down?” Jensen groans. “Of course they did. If you could, who knows who else would?”

“First off, thanks for the vote of confidence.” Jared rolls his eyes then settles more comfortably back on his haunches, prompting Jensen to do the same, unsure how long they’re going to camp out in this alley. “Second, the saving is more about getting you out from the boring clutches of WitSec.”

“I hardly believe you found me on your own. And I know there’s no way even you have access to WitSec.”

“Hey,” Jared argues. “I found you in that warehouse when you were kidnapped.”

“Nevermind that you _let_ me get kidnapped,” Jensen complains. “I practically left you a trail of breadcrumbs on my voicemail.”

Jared surges forward to kiss him, knocking him back into the brick wall; Jensen doesn’t care. It’s a nice feeling to have Jared in his space. “I’ve missed shitty Jensen,” Jared mumbles when he pulls away. He brings his hands up to Jensen’s face then over his neck and shoulders, as if searching for injuries. “You’re good, though? Is your protection good?”

“Yes, yes,” he sighs, pulling Jared’s hands away. “I mean, he’s nowhere near as impressively large as you are, but I like him pretty well.”

“Don’t like him too much,” Jared warns. 

Jensen smiles, feeling suddenly delirious to see this flash of jealousy. It, and Jared’s presence, means that there’s more here than just a few months spent in each other’s back pockets. Except, Jensen realizes that Dorhing is still out there on the street … hopefully. “You were tailing us in the store?”

“Are you kidding me? I would’ve lost you in that maze of guava and quinoa.”

He chuckles then sobers when he realizes that Dohring’s senses had been dinged for something else entirely. And that Dohring hadn’t been following too closely behind, and is likely now on the hunt for a missing Jensen; all things point to not good.

“Well, my agent saw something in there, and now he’s gone, so you know.” Jensen makes a rough gesture to get them moving.

“What did the guy look like?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see anything. Just could tell he was looking for something.”

When they get to the alley’s opening, they look left then head right, which does not work well because Jared gets knocked back by a fist to his nose. 

Jensen backs away from the onslaught before he realizes it’s Dohring going after Jared. Luckily, it doesn’t last long, because Jared can easily overpower the young agent, and gets him face down in the alley, arms pulled up tight behind his back as Jared leans down to his ear. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Jared says.

“Funny way of showing it,” Dohring says with a roll of his eyes. 

Jared glances at Jensen, who is doing his best to not freak out over how badly this situation could go; Jared could leave Dohring incapacitated so they can escape on their own (which, is not such a bad idea, maybe), or Dorhing could exert his real power as a true on-duty agent and do some bad of his own to Jared (terribly possible). 

Then Jared smiles and Jensen kind of wishes the whole thing would wash away, or at least return to four or so months ago when there wasn’t a worry for this sort of situation. “I can see why you like him. He’s got your attitude.”

“Can you please not hurt my bodyguard?” Jensen asks. “I’d like us all to get out of here in one piece.”

“Yeah, especially when there’s someone on our heels,” Dohring complains, shifting his arms in Jared’s grip. 

Jared immediately lets go of the agent, even helps him up to his feet and wipes grime off his jacket. “What’d he look like?”

“Average height, stocky, dark hair, no facial recognition yet.” Dorhing sizes Jared up, eyes narrowin in judgment. “Why?”

“The DEA found the mole.”

“They did?!” Jensen exclaims. “Is he coming here?”

“Yes and I don’t know,” Jared says simply. “Probably. It kinda sounds like him.”

“What’s his name?”

Jensen barely sees the guy step behind Jared, but he definitely spots the handgun aimed behind Jared’s ear. Jensen immediately stumbles back a few feet as Dohring reaches for his weapon, only to be stopped by the man’s growled, “Don’t even.”

Jared brings his arms up, hands open to the air, and glances first to Jensen then locks right onto Dohring. Jensen hopes they’re sharing some secret conversation, as if agents are taught to mind read. That would be pretty amazing at this moment. 

“Ty Olsson,” Jared grumbles.

“In the flesh,” the guy says with a mocking laugh. “And you must be Jared Padalecki. I thought the Secret Service burned your ass.”

“Too bad the DEA didn’t shred yours,” Jared replies, tightlipped and still staring right at Dohring, who brings his hands up to start pleading with Olsson.

“Hey, we don’t gotta do it this way,” Dohring says kindly. “We can all talk like adults.”

“Oh, please, junior,” Olsson complains. “I’ve got another gun on my other hip. Six bullets that could all be yours if you don’t stay a pleasurable distance away.”

Jensen takes a slow step towards the alley, debating if he can move fast enough to create a diversion so Jared and/or Dohring can take care of this. 

Olsson sees him, however, and tsks with a quick aim of his gun at Jensen. “Don’t you think of it. You’re the only reason I bothered to come up here.”

“You should at least try the cheese,” Jared offers, and Olsson digs the barrel of his gun into the back of Jared’s neck.

“Is your dying wish to be cute?”

Jensen grits his teeth when he sees Jared sharply bend his neck away from the pressure of the gun. “Just leave him alone,” Jensen gripes. “I’m the one you came up here for. Why don’t you aim that gun at me?”

“Jensen, don’t be stupid,” Jared grumbles.

“Yeah,” Dorhing says with wide eyes. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Too late,” he says with a laugh, holding his arms out. “I was stupid when I was fifteen and hacking into my high school grades, and again when I was eighteen and padding my bank account. I’ve been nothing but stupid my whole life.”

“Jensen,” Jared says carefully.

“No, it’s true.” And it is, but it’s also all Jensen can think of in terms of distracting Olsson from shooting Jared. “And then I got caught by the FBI, and Jesus, can one screw up more than that?”

Even Dohring seems confused by Jensen’s minor breakdown, and both he and Jared are slowly dropping their arms as everyone is now staring at Jensen.

“And then what? I work for them and start tracking moles in other agencies and what happens? The DEA starts breathing down my neck, and then you come along!” he jokingly complains at Jared. “My house gets bugged, Brock steals AnonOps files, I’m _kidnapped_ for Christ’s sake, then almost gunned down in the middle of a street market. Which all lands me right here with this asshole pointing a gun at you while he carries another on his hip and we’re all standing here like dead meat.”

He widens his eyes at Jared and wishes he could telepath the meaning behind that last sentence. It takes a few seconds until finally Jared mumbles, “Right,” and makes a short spin to the left, reaches back for Olsson’s holster, completes his turn, and sets the barrel of the gun under Olsson’s chin. With increasing pressure, he forces Olsson’s head back, and uses his other hand to wrench the guy’s hand at a sharp enough angle that he drops his own weapon. 

Jensen dashes for gun and aims it right at Olsson’s head. “What was that you said?” he spits out while locking his elbow and tugging his finger a little at the trigger. “Six bullets that could all be yours? I really ought to.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you then?” Olsson taunts. “Or are you gonna bitch and moan a little more about the sad state of your—”

Jensen smacks the butt of the gun into the back of Olsson’s head and knocks him out. 

“Well,” Dohring says plainly. “I did not see it going down like that.”

“At least he didn’t shoot him,” Jared offers. “I’ve seen that before.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“I really hate violence,” Jensen says. 

“Yeah, I can tell,” Dohring says with a strained smile. Then he scratches his head and paces a few steps in each direction. “This is great. I’m about to call up my commanding officer and let him know that an ex-Secret Service agent nearly stole my charge before the DEA’s mole came up on us. But not to worry, because our protected witness saved the day.”

“That sounds about right,” Jensen says with a shrug.

“All while I stood here with my gun still holstered.”

“Hey, bright side,” Jared offers, “No shots fired. No mess.”

 

*

 

“How did you find him?” Jensen asks, utterly out of breath. 

“Why are we talking about this now?” Jared complains, leaning forward to kiss Jensen, all messy tongue and saliva. 

“I’m just wondering what you di—oh shit!” he cries out, arching his back and pulling at Jared’s shoulders. “Right there, right fucking there.”

Jared rocks forward again, smacking his hips into Jensen’s spread legs, fucking a bit faster and certainly more enjoyably than the last time they were in this position. 

Following a long round of debriefs and being separated for the hours it took the Bureau to determine the state of Jensen’s safety, plus setting them up in yet another hotel with two agents outside the door, Jensen finally found something fun to do while kept under witness protection: Jared. 

“As much,” Jared mumbles in between strides, “as I appreciate impressing you,” and a new tilt of his hips to hit Jensen’s prostate once again, “we can talk about this later, yeah?”

Jensen cries out again, biting down on his lips because it was likely too loud and heard by not only the agents outside, but the people in the neighboring rooms. “Mmhmm, okay, yeah,” he mumbles. “Just keep doing that.”

Jared plants his hands on either side of Jensen’s head then sets his knees even wider to force Jensen’s legs as far apart as possible. Then he tips forward and as deep as he can get, which is pretty damned far, and sets a steady pace just like that. 

Jensen falls apart soon after that, biting hard at his own mouth to keep as quiet as possible and gripping tight to Jared’s shoulders. Jared doesn’t last much longer either and leans in close as he slows his hips, breathes deeply while they kiss languidly. He sets his forehead to Jensen’s and lazily smiles. “I’m glad I found you.”

“Me, too.”

“And I’m glad I could finally save you.”

“I kinda saved us all, really. With the gun to the idiot’s head thing.”

Jared chuckles and nips at Jensen’s bottom lip, which is still tender from Jensen clamping down on it so much. He stills smirks when Jensen grimaces with the pain. “Okay, we can share the glory.”

“Deal,” Jensen allows, running his hand through Jared’s hair one last time before the separate and clean up. Once Jared is settled back down next to him, Jensen is overcome with an initial bout of guilt and worry, like they should be more aware of their surroundings. Old habits, and all that. “It’s kinda weird, to be just … here. And together.”

Shifting, Jared sits up a little with his hand propping his head. “What do you mean?”

“Like, that we’re not hiding from camera lenses, or worrying about the next attack.”

“Yeah,” Jared agrees, glancing to the other end of the room. “That last part will take some getting used to.”

Jensen turns to his side, copying Jared’s position. “Olsson said you were an ex-agent,” he prompts. 

Jared continues to look beyond Jensen, licking his lip like he’s buying time, or ordering words in his head. “It was kind of a condition of the deal we made with the DEA.”

“Which was …”

“My director agreed to make the deal, which could unearth the mole, if I took a leave of absence.”

“For how long?”

Jared finally looks Jensen in the eyes and boldly says, “Permanently.”

Jensen’s stomach flips and guilt floods him. Jared’s pride for his job was a palatable thing, and now, thanks to this situation with Jensen, he no longer has it. “Jared, I’m so sorry, if I can do any—”

“You can just lie here and be alive,” Jared insists. “Because that’s all I kept worrying about.”

There’s no point in arguing it, especially not in the afterglow of sex fueled by the endorphins of escaping death, getting the bad guy, and being reunited. They can certainly talk about it all at a later point. To ease it away, Jensen jokes, “Good, then we’re both unemployed with a lot of time on our hands.”

“You’re not going back to D.C.?”

Jensen shrugs; he’d considered it, but also wasn’t sure it was wise to step back into what started the whole mess. “Dohring said the Bureau could set me up somewhere, but I’m not sure it’s needed. Since you know, we stopped the bad guy.” He grins a little then settles down with the real prospect. “Maybe I’ll find something in consulting.” He taps Jared’s chest and offers, “Maybe you will, too.”

Jared curls his fingers around Jensen’s hand and smirks. “Maybe we’ll find some consulting together.”

“Not such a bad idea,” Jensen chuckles. “A rogue agent and a covert analyst.”

“Speaking of,” Jared says, sliding a little closer. “This criminal hacker life you had. Did it also have another name?”

Jensen bites the side of his mouth and looks at their hands still wrapped around each other. “Yeah, it did.” It feels weird to say it out loud, after years of trying to forget it. “It was Dean Winchester.”

“So that’s your real name?”

“Yeah,” he admits quietly.

Surprisingly, and rather simply, Jared insists, “I think I like Jensen better.”

Jensen nods, trying to hid a ridiculous smile. “Me, too.”

“Though Dean sounds kinda sexy and badass.”

Jensen laughs and shoves at Jared, throwing his whole body into it so they roll with Jensen hovering over Jared. “He also kind of sucked at avoiding the heat.”

“Is that why you were always uptight? Always looking behind you and worrying about who to trust?”

With a shrug, Jensen plays it off, but he knows it’s true. He’s spent years waiting for someone to get a lead on him, for any number of reasons. Today, though, at this moment, he feels like he has a new list of possibilities laid out before him. “It doesn’t really matter now. The past is the past.”

“I guess you’re right.” Jared leans up to kiss him, then hums as he slips back. “But you do owe your past a call, and maybe a wine basket. Danneel tracked your ass all the way up here.”

“Really?” Jensen asks in slight surprise.

“And then she helped me get into the Service’s database to track the DEA while they combed through our files.”

Now Jensen is completely stunned. “ _Really?_ So that’s how you got the mole’s name?”

Jared nods and smirks. “I think the Bureau better keep an eye on her.”

“Oh, you don’t even know,” Jensen laughs. “She’s got secrets up her sleeves _and_ her skirt.”

“Kinky,” Jared murmurs as he trails his fingers down Jensen’s back and over his ass. 

Jensen’s skin starts to prickle with the sensation of Jared’s fingers lazily dragging over Jensen’s bare ass. He wiggles a little then shifts between Jared’s legs when he widens them, making room for them to set their hips together. “Well, I think at this point,” Jensen says, a bit more formally than need be, “the only thing to do is have more sex then talk about all those things we never had time for.”

Jared smiles with his hands cupping Jensen’s ass and pulling him into a slow rhythm. “Yes, sir.”

He’s immediately thrown back to the early days of Jared protecting him, when the agent was full of kind smiles, strict motions, and _yes, sirs_. He almost laughs about how long ago that was. 

And at how much has drama has followed them since then. Not to mention how much trouble is awaiting them in the future. 

Consulting. Right.

**The End**


End file.
